


A Mutant Christmas Carol

by niniblack



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Christmas, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is Scrooge, Ghosts of Christmas, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma smiled. Erik could see the pattern of the wallpaper through her transparent body. “You’ll be visited by three ghosts, the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.”</p><p>“Christmas?” Erik raised an eyebrow. “I’m Jewish. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”</p><p>Emma waved a hand at him dismissively. “You’re worrying too much about the particulars."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen the trailer for Apocalypse, there are spoilers within based on the trailer, interviews with the cast, and speculation about the plot.
> 
> Thank you to [Ending Themes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/endingthemes/pseuds/endingthemes) for looking this over!
> 
> I'm hoping to have one part posted each day until Christmas, but it's the holidays so don't hold me to that.

The newspaper had a picture of Charles on it, tucked down near the fold on the righthand side, next to a headline about Santa and his reindeer. Erik told himself that he’d bought it because he wanted to know what was going on, what had happened recently in the fight for civil rights for mutants, but the truth was he’d seen Charles’ picture and picked up the paper before he’d even noticed what the article was about. Charles looked good; his hair was still long but he’d shaved, and the jacket he was wearing made his shoulders look very broad.

The article called him the “foremost expert on the mutant genome” and had a couple quotes from Charles saying that the mutations that led to someone having blue skin were no different than the mutations that led to red hair. “We’re all human,” the article quoted Charles saying.

“For a given value of human,” Erik muttered. Certainly, the politician Charles was shaking hands with wouldn’t view red hair and blue skin as equally benign deviations from the norm. Charles was as foolish as ever if he thought he could convince anyone of that.

Erik stopped himself from following that train of thought. It didn’t matter what Charles was doing, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter what the humans thought or did about mutants. Erik was done. He’d tried to make a difference, tried to help mutants, and the only thing it had ever gotten him was ten years in prison and people who used to be friends that now hated him.

He was tired, and he was done fighting. Let Charles do things his way, Erik didn’t care anymore. He was leaving and finding someplace where humans and mutants alike wouldn’t bother him anymore.

He repeated it to himself a couple times, ignoring the niggling doubt.

Erik left the paper on the bench he’d been sitting on, forcing himself not to take one last look at Charles’ smiling face. He needed to find someplace to stay for the night.

The hotel Erik found himself at was a bit rundown, but clean. The man behind the counter was wearing a Santa hat and said “Merry Christmas” as he handed Erik the room key. Erik ignored him, taking the key and hurrying towards the stairs.

The hotel room looked like every other cheap hotel room he’d stayed in throughout his life; a bed, a nightstand, a table, a chair, a tiny en-suite bathroom, and atrocious wallpaper. This one had a dresser with a television sitting on top. Erik tossed his bag onto the bed and headed towards the bathroom, striping as he went. The only thing he wanted right now was a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

The shower was only lukewarm, but considering what he’d paid for the room Erik figured he couldn’t complain too much about subpar amenities. He wandered back into the room, still toweling his hair dry, which was the only reason he could come up with for why he didn’t notice the woman sitting in the chair until he was already halfway across the room.

“You’re usually more aware of your surroundings,” Emma Frost said.

Erik stared. He wasn’t sure what else to do, faced with the ghost of a woman who’d been dead for half a decade. “You’re dead,” he finally said.

“But I’m still pretty,” Emma replied, crossing her legs primly. Now that Erik was looking more closely, he could see the outline of the chair she was sitting in through her body.

He tensed, reaching for the metal in the room. There wasn’t much, but there were pipes in the walls if he needed them. “What are you?”

“A ghost, of course. I thought that was obvious.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Well, depending on who you ask, there’s no such thing as mutants either. But you are one, and so am I.” Emma’s lips curled a bit, not quite into a smile. “Did you miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” Erik said. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, but you can pretend if you like.”

“I don’t play pretend,” Erik told her.

“Then you’ll have to believe me,” Emma said. “Now that we’re past that, please sit.” She gestured towards the bed. “We have some things to talk about.”

“Like what? Your death?” Erik asked. He didn’t sit, choosing instead to cross his arms over his bare chest and stare down Emma’s ghost.

“You’re awfully hung up on that, aren’t you?” Emma frowned at him. “It’s nice of you to try to avenge me, Magneto, but you don’t have to ruin your own life doing so.” Before Erik could respond, she’d already changed topics. “As for why I’m here, it’s to help you.”

“How can a ghost help me?” Erik asked. “Do you have a fake passport for me? Or a way to get the Americans to stop chasing me?”

“Well, you did try to kill their president,” Emma pointed out. “On national television. Really, it’s no wonder people dislike you.” If Emma noticed that Erik was glaring at her, she didn’t let on. “I’m here because you are about to completely screw up your life. And everyone else’s lives along with it.” She frowned at him pityingly. “I know you think that leaving and hiding is what’s best for everyone, but you have an important role to play.”

“I’m not hiding,” Erik said.

“You are,” Emma argued. “You’re afraid of actually trying to get what you want, so you’re running away from any chance of it.”

Erik took a step towards her, forgetting for a moment that she was a ghost and not his old friend, bestowing her particular brand of condescending advice. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked. “If I don’t, then tonight’s activities will have no effect on your decision. You can leave tomorrow and head off for wherever it is you think no one will find you.”

“What activities?” Erik asked.

Emma smiled. Erik could see the pattern of the wallpaper through her transparent body. “I’m glad you asked. You’ll be visited by three ghosts, the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.”

“Christmas?” Erik raised an eyebrow. “I’m Jewish. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Emma waved a hand at him dismissively. “You’re worrying too much about the particulars. What you need to think about is what they show you.”

“This is nonsense,” Erik said, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, and you’re dead. And you’re not even here. I’m hallucinating.”

“The first ghost will appear an hour after midnight,” Emma said, ignoring him. “Try to pay attention to what they show you. It might save everyone.”

“This isn’t real,” Erik insisted.

Emma just smirked at him, raising her hand and waving her fingers at him slowly, as if to say goodbye.

Erik closed his eyes tightly enough to see flashes of color, keeping them that away for a long moment before opening them again and looking around the room. The hallucination of Emma was gone. He checked the tiny en-suite bathroom as well before sinking down into the chair. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. “You’re losing it, Lehnsherr,” he muttered. Talking to himself was probably part of going crazy.

It took forever before Erik was able to drift off to sleep that night, but eventually he did.


	2. Christmas Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven -- sorry, the ghost of Christmas past -- pays Erik a visit and reminds him of what he used to have.

After what felt like only minutes, Erik was being woken by what sounded like a loud bell, chiming one past midnight. He blinked up at the ceiling blearily for a moment before rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.

“Hey!” a voice said. “Wake up!”

Erik spun around so fast on the bed that the blankets twisted around his hips, arm raised and already throwing the nearest large metal object, in this case the telephone, in the direction the voice had come from.

The figure ducked before the telephone hit them in the head. “For fuck’s sake, Erik. It’s me!”

Erik stared. “Raven?” He waved a hand at the lamp, switching it on. In the now dimly lit room he could see Raven, standing with her hands on her hips and glaring at him. “What… How did you get here?”

Raven looked at him like he was particularly dim. “Emma told you I was coming.”

Erik wasn’t sure what to say to that, and Raven finally rolled her eyes before saying, “I’m the ghost of Christmas past. Come on, get out of bed. We’ve got things to do.”

“There’s no such things as ghosts.”

“Spirit then.”

“No such thing as that either.”

Raven crossed her arms. “Pretend I’m a hallucination then. I don’t care. Just get out of bed so we can get going. We have a lot to go see.”

Erik didn’t budge. “I’m not talking to a hallucination. Much less one claiming to be a Christmas ghost. I don’t even celebrate Christmas.”

Raven pursed her lips. “Fine, have it your way,” she said, before reaching over and grabbing Erik’s arm.

Erik blinked, and then he was falling to his knees, landing in the grass. Raven let go of him, leaving Erik to stumble back to his feet. “Where are we?” he demanded.

Raven gestured behind him. “Christmas past.”

Erik turned to find himself standing in front of the mansion. Charles’ mansion. It looked the same as the last time he’d seen it, some eleven years ago now.

He glanced back at Raven. “I didn’t know you could teleport. Why did you bring me here?”

“I can’t,” Raven said. “And I told you, this is Christmas past. You’ve apparently forgotten everything that happened here, so I’m reminding you.”

Erik looked back up at the house. “I didn’t forget,” he said.

“Could have fooled me,” Raven told him.

Erik frowned, looking around more closely. “This can’t be Christmas. It feels like summer.”

“You’re worrying way too much about the particulars,” Raven said. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

She grabbed his arm again, and the next thing Erik knew he was standing inside the foyer, in front of the large staircase. The mansion looked exactly as he remembered it, all carved wooden paneling and thick carpets.

“Over there,” Raven said, gesturing down the hall towards what had been Charles’ study.

This had to be a dream, Erik decided. An utterly bizarre dream, but a dream none the less. Erik pinched himself, hoping that would wake him up. The mansion stayed the same.

He glanced at Raven, who gestured toward the study again, this time more impatiently. “We don’t have all night,” she said. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

Erik walked towards the study. He reached out for the doorknob, but discovered that his hand passed directly through it, and taking a step forward had him stepping right through the door. He spun around, but the door was still there, looking solid. Raven poked her head through the center of it. “Oh good, we got the right time.”

Erik turned around to see what she was looking at, and found himself and Charles huddled over a game of chess. He took a step forward, staring at his own face in fascination.

“Killing Shaw won’t bring you peace,” Charles was saying, leaning forwards with elbows on his knees.

“I remember this,” Erik said. The night before they’d gone to Cuba. The night before before he’d killed Shaw, paralyzed Charles, and left one life behind for another.

He turned to look at Raven. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I told you,” Raven said. “It’s Christmas past. Or close enough.”

Erik turned back to watch himself say, “Peace was never an option.”

Charles was frowning. “It could be,” he said.

Past Erik was shaking his head. “You’re not going to change my mind, Charles. I’ve been chasing Shaw for too long to let him go now. I have to finish it.”

Charles looked a bit rueful, but leaned back in his chair. “I know. I had to try, at least.”

“You won’t stop me tomorrow?”

“No,” Charles said. “I know what this means to you.”

Erik asked again, “Why are we here? What good does reliving this do?”

“It’s supposed to show you how you were happy, once,” Raven said.

“I wasn’t happy,” Erik told her.

“Weren’t you?” Raven asked. She was watching the past Charles, who was joking about Erik winning the chess game.

“You can challenge me to a rematch later,” past Erik said, standing up and downing the last of his drink. Erik remembered that, he’d been trying to blase about how badly the next day had the potential to go, making himself look more sure than he’d been. At the time, Erik hadn’t truly been able to imagine there being anything after killing Shaw.

“I don’t know,” Charles said. “I think I should get a consolation prize.” He was leaning back in his chair, looking up at Erik and affecting an overly innocent expression. Past Erik was leering back him.

“Oh, gross,” Raven muttered. “We’re not staying to watch you two have sex.”

“Why not?” Erik asked. It was a bit fascinating watching from the outside as his past self leaned down over Charles, kissing him. Charles was tugging on the back of past Erik’s turtleneck to pull him closer, and Erik could almost imagine he could remember how that had felt.

“Because not all of us are perverts,” she said. “Come on.” 

Raven grabbed his hand and the next thing Erik knew he was back in his tiny hotel room, crouched on all fours on the floor. He shivered; the room was much chillier than the study had been.

Erik stumbled to his feet, turning in a circle to look around the hotel room. There was no sign of Raven or the study. Just the run down hotel room, illuminated in shades of grey by the streetlight outside the window.

He swallowed hard, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed. The dream had felt impossibly real, and now that it was over, left him with a tight feeling in his chest that he didn’t want to examine too closely.


End file.
